What They Needed Most
by GethinPathIsolator
Summary: Matthew needed to get away. With the help of Detective Bonnefoy, he ends up living with Ivan Braginski who wants nothing to do with his mess, but later accepts the boy's presence. When "he" finds Matthew and threatens to take him away, what would Ivan do to keep his new found joy? AU. RusCan.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Hola! So this is my first Hetalia story and it will never be as good as I want it to be, sadly. Reviews will be appreciated. Like, _really, really_ appreciated. I know my writing/grammar needs improvement, so just hang in there. I do hope that you give this story a chance OuO ((ARRGH! Why do I feel nervous posting this here?!~))

**Disclaimer: **I don't own the characters...

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Matthew needed to get away. With the help of Detective Bonnefoy, he ends up living with Ivan Braginski who wants nothing to do with his mess, but later accepts the boy's presence. When "he" finds Matthew and threatens to take him away, what would Ivan do to keep his new found joy? AU. RusCan.

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_People are very fond of giving away what they need most themselves. - Oscar Wilde_

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**Ivan** was not amused. He has been living alone for five years. Ever since he left Russia when he turned eighteen, he has been supporting himself by doing odd jobs. Although moving to a new country and learning an entirely different language had proven to be hard, his cleverness and determination not to yield and fail brought all the good he currently has.

_…Thus Mr. Francis Bonnefoy has appointed you in charge of Matthew Williams until his condition is well enough…_

'Take the boy in?'

He reread the letter over and over again. Why was that man giving him his burden? Of course, it was just like that French bastard to not give him any other choice. No conditions were stated if he were to decline.

Enclosed in the envelope he received was a small picture of the said Matthew with his younger cousin. He has blonde hair reaching just above his chin with a weird longer strand hanging lazily apart from his bangs. His eyes, a pair of purple orbs that attracted the Russian man most, were tame yet still exhibited life. It was as if Matthew is at total peace. The smile was small and shy- a contrast to the seemingly boisterous one the boy beside him was sporting. The boy labelled as Alfred Jones has darker skin tone than Matthew. His hair was cut shorter and the strand hanging off lazily was replaced by a shorter cowlick and his eyes were the brightest blue that radiated life much merrier than the older male. Alfred had his arms around Matthew and the other doing a peace sign. The shot was taken in a carnival explaining the stuffed polar bear Matthew was holding.

Ivan Braginsky was tall, bordering 6'4''. He had pale complexion and light blonde hair that appeared silvery white most of the times. His eyes were the oddest shade of purple. He has a nose larger than average that fit his face just fine and made him looked rather attractive. Presently, he worked at a company owned a stiff German who was only a couple of years older then him.

"This won't be fun, _da_?"

A creepy smile was what made its way onto his features.

If there was something that one has to know about the tall Russian male, it was that he was a conniving man. Just knowing this and taking precautions was a lot. Ivan Braginsky is the enemy you hope never to make. He was a clever, yes, but even more so, he was cunning. He played according to his rules and when he decides that you will join his game, you have no choice but to oblige. Even Beilschmidt, his boss, sometimes fears Ivan; often wondering if it was safe to keep him and also often reaching the conclusion that yes, it was safer if Ivan were with him than against him. Beilschmidt had seen what he can do and he is not eager to try and be the receiving end of Braginsky's escapades.

"If I can't kick him out then he'll just have to leave on his own."

Slightly, the paper creased from the force the man was holding it with. It was then left alone on the dining table. He went upstairs and proceeded to grab a change of clothes. He filled the tub with hot water and went in.

He would be like a cat prancing around his prey. A predator taking leisure has the other party squirms in uneasiness from the unpredictability of the scene.

Not even bothering to dry his hair properly, the man laid on his bed with only a pair of boxers.

Ivan, for the most part, wasn't a cruel man. He wasn't all that nice either. He was a man who took what he wanted with no remorse regardless of how evil or not the feat would be. Oh yes, he was a very selfish man.

All these were hidden under a mask of innocent childlike face he has been blessed with.

Matthew Williams.

He thought of the name. Although a selfish and conniving man, Ivan was rational. He could not hate the boy- well, not yet- if he had not done anything on purpose to be a burden to him. He was irked that he has to stay with him but it wasn't enough reason for him to actually loathe the male.

Ivan's hating was never ever a pleasant sight.

The reason for the necessity of the boy to stay with him was not stated.

_…You, sir, must at all times keep an eye on him for he is in a vulnerable state after what happened to…_

So what if his cousin was in a critical condition? Why does this Matthew have to move? Wouldn't it make more sense for him to stay by his cousin?

Clearly, there was something Francis was leaving out on purpose. And he was too busy for these problems.

'Oh, well, like what they say, _que sera, sera..._' was his thought before he fell into slumber.

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Matthew hated being a burden. He hated it more than anything- more than being constantly forgotten by people. Since he was a child, he had always been independent. He never had time to be a kid. His mother was a single parent; his father died three months before he was born.

When he was fourteen, a drunkard riding his massive truck took away his mother's life.

A close relative which happens to be the Jones took him in.

He tried his best to remain invisible, but the family was too effusive for that. He opted to stay at home when the family was dining out or visiting parks, but the Jones would have none of that especially Alfred. The boy, a year younger, always looked up to his cousin and was very glad that he got too stay with them. At night, he would stay in Matthew's room keeping the latter awake with his mindless chatters and he won't even get scolded unless his mother find him there or Matthew himself would gently chastise him and tells him to go to sleep for they have school the next day.

Matthew knew that was more than welcome there; still, there were times that he feels like he was imposing on them. On the other hand, he had never felt like he had a family until the Jones.

He was walking beside Detective Francis Bonnefoy. He was to live with a man in another country until matters back home settle down.

"Don't worry, _mon petit_, Ivan is a nice man though he seems scary."

No matter what kind of coaxing the French man did, Matthew will not dislike his situation any less. His eyes remained glued to the ground and his usually kept hair hang all over his face. He carried one messenger bag, which contained his wallet, phone, laptop, mp3 player, and a stuffed polar bear he got from the Jones the first Christmas of his living with them, apart from the luggage he has which has his clothes and other similar necessities.

The walk from the gate to the front door seemed to take eternity. Each step was heavy and lid with anxious anticipation.

'I wonder what kind of man Mr. Braginsky is.'

"Don't you fret now, _mon cheri_, he is an old friend and I know him personally. You will be safe here." Bonnefoy tried to assuage him.

The French blonde knocked three times before the door was answered.

Matthew gaped at the large man standing before them. He was sporting a smile that frightened him more than making him feel welcomed. His eyes wandered around aimlessly past the large Russian- anything was fine as long as it wasn't Ivan himself.

The size of the man compared to him was a clear example of how vulnerable he really is. He wasn't scrawny, but his features bordered more on femininity much to his dismay. If it was even possible, his already broken spirit just shattered even more.

'Anyone could easily…'

"Ah, Francis-" Ivan smiled and turned to Matthew "-and you must be Matthew." The latter nodded meekly.

Matthew had never so much in his life wished to be invisible. Although smiling, the older man seemed to be boring holes through his head.

The two guests were let in and followed Ivan through the house.

There was dust covering the shelves, Matthew noted. On the wall hang several different paintings that were also clouded with dust. The largest one was of a sunflower field placed in the middle of the living room. Judging from what he's seen, the man was loaded. Expensive looking wares were displayed all around and the woods from where the shelves where made cost a fortune.

'Too bad this place looks gloomy. I bet with a little bit of cleaning it wouldn't be half as bad.'

"So what could I get you two?" Ivan offered.

"Ah, no, no, _mon ami_, I'll be heading out soon. There's something I must take care of back there. What about you, Matthew?" Francis declined.

"Ah – I – I am fine. Thank you." The boy tried not to blush at his stuttering. He was so engrossed with the new place.

"Ah, well then, why won't you try knowing the place better? You can check every room as long as it's not locked." Francis quickly caught onto what Ivan wanted. The youngest of the trio didn't present to be a problem when he quickly moved, excusing himself from their presence.

Twenty minutes later, Matthew concluded that the house need major cleaning. His allergies were starting to act with all the dust present. He put it on his priority list while he's staying. 'I just hope he won't mind.'

He discovered the way down to the basement through a seemingly normal closet door. Upstairs, he counted four bedrooms two of which were locked. One was a library and study while the other was an empty bedroom. And unless he was to be locked in the basement, he thought, it's going to be his room.

There was a willow tree just outside the fences of the backyard and under it was a swing. Besides the weeds and the wild flowers growing, the land was desolated, much to his dismay.

After hearing his name being called, he returned. Francis was getting up from his seat, his face stoic. The ever-so-present smile of Ivan was still there and scarier. He walked with Francis to the door not really wanting the older man to leave.

"_T'inquiète pas, mon cheri." (Don't worry, my love.)_He smiled, patted the boy's head, and left. Matthew waited until he sound of the car's engine disappeared before facing his now landlord alone.

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It was a half lie when Francis told Matthew that Ivan was nice. The Russian lad was not exactly _nice_ and probably far from it, but he couldn't say no to a personal request from the man. After all, there was no amount of favours that can match what the French did for him in his younger years. He practically owed everything to the touchy bastard.

He needed Matthew safe, the gentle and caring Matthew who he had known since the boy's younger years. Personally, he had wanted to be the one to take him in, but he wanted to make sure. He couldn't take chances. No, definitely no.

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"I know you are not happy with this arrangement-"

"_Da_, so it is obvious isn't it, Mr. Bonnefoy. I don't want anything to do with that child." Ivan was smiling though his words dripped with blatant dislike. Francis sighed and lifted his hand to pinch the bridge of his nose as if to stop a headache form coming.

"But you see, Ivan, you have no say in this matter-" Bonnefoy gave him a pointed look "- you have to take him in whether you like it or not. Matthew is no longer a child and he would not be too much trouble. You can ignore him for all I care, but _please_, you _have to_ let him stay here. He's already enrolled in one of the local colleges and I have left him instructions on how to get there. I've left him addresses and phone number of places around the city so he could get to them without asking you. He is a very intelligent and capable child. You can get on with your life just fine. I promise: he would not be a bother."

Whatever was it in Francis's voice, it made Ivan unable to argue further. Still, he did not liked where this was going any better. He nodded in resolution which delighted the older male.

"But tell me, Francis," Ivan started, unusually calling the man by his first name, "what is it you are hiding from me?" Francis smiled rather mockingly. "Still as sharp as ever, eh?" Before resuming, he closed his eyes for a moment and breathed. Would it be best to tell Ivan? Matthew might be hurt if he does. But the man could protect him. Then again, how will Ivan react? _Non._ He couldn't. Matthew should be given the right to disclose everything.

"I'm sorry but it must remain untold for now. In the right time, _mon ami, _Matthew should be the one to tell."

Ivan was just as frustrated as he was when he first received the letter a week ago. Bonnefoy's response was absolute and the Russian knew better than to push the matter.

He watched the man leave, giving Matthew a pat on the head then walking past the door without looking back. Though he had not known Francis for more than a few years, he has never seen the detective worried about someone this way. More importantly, it was Francis's rule to completely separate his work from his life. Apparently, this boy he's taking in made him break that- even dragging an old comrade along. With each more observation, Ivan grew more and more curious.

'Nonsense… if Bonnefoy says he won't be a bother, then he won't be.'

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"Let me get this straight, Matthew. You may be staying under my roof for now, but we are in no way acquainted. _Da_?" There was no hint of remorse in his voice. Matthew's eyes widened, but not nearly as surprised. Somehow, he hadn't expected the Russian to be welcoming, but telling him off harshly was a whole different matter. "I will leave you your spare key on the table tomorrow before I go to work. You can use anything in the kitchen or in the house for that matter just as long as you kept out of my room. To put it simply, stay out of my way. You get it, _da_?" 'I don't want you here.' It was unspoken yet to Matthew, it was a clear as the sky on a fine day. In response, the Canadian nodded and turned to unpack.

The room Ivan had given him had its own bathroom and fairly sized walk-in closet. It was bigger than both his and Alfred's room combined. Its walls were painted in light shade of blue. His bed was located just below the window were the sun and moon would have complete access. There was a nightstand beside the bed and on the opposite wall was a study table.

He let down his luggage and started planning where to put what. Before getting into unpacking, Matthew first decided to clean the whole space with the materials he found in storage board by the kitchen.

The rest of the day, Ivan was nowhere in sight. Though, the sound of fingers hitting the keyboard and occasional shuffling of papers were evident whenever he passed the library.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Hey guys! I am very very pleased with this story stat right now, but alas! I not-so-accidentally broke my laptop. (I kinda hit it hard when I learned that 7gb of music (aka ALL my music files) was accidentally deleted by my classmate whom i lent my usb... just imagine, four years of effort in compiling that, gone within one night - and no, sadly, I have no backup for that.)

The only thing I managed to keep is the unedited version and very incomplete file of this story. Though fixing my device might not take longer than three days or such (not really sure), there _might_ be no updates within next week. So sorry! Bear with me please.

Lastly, I just want to inform you that this fic won't be long... probably ten thousand words at most. So yeah... just hang in there.

**Edit (07/11/12)**

I am fucking devastated. I feel like half of me just died. I cried so many hours. I. Lost. _Everything.  
_The files I've had for more than ten years... GONE. POOF. DISAPPEARED FOREVER. I'm not getting into details of what happened except for the fact that I was too fucking nice to everyone and such a productive member of my group that we have been using meine device from the start. And I don't use back-up drives (more like... I have none) GAAHH! Anyway, because all my files are RIP (thank God I had this somewhere else T^T) I would have to rewrite A LOT... and it would take a while. And it's just so sad that this wasn't the only thing I was working on. I'll try my best to post at least once every week.

_Sorry for posting this stupid rant here..._

**Disclaimer: **I don't own the characters...

* * *

Matthew needed to get away. With the help of Detective Bonnefoy, he ends up living with Ivan Braginski who wants nothing to do with his mess, but later accepts the boy's presence. When "he" finds Matthew and threatens to take him away, what would Ivan do to keep his new found joy? AU. RusCan.

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**EDITED**

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**Weeks** later, Matthew found work. On Mondays and Tuesdays, he stays at the library from three to eight sitting at the front desk and managing the books being returned. On Thursdays, he sorts the piles into their right section and, more often than not, he finds himself helping the goers look for their books. It was a perfect job for him. He enjoys being surrounded by printed words and it didn't get in the way of his studies.

School was going pleasant as well. He met several people who he was in good terms with. There was the Italian twin in their last year of college whose family also owned the famous Vargas restaurant in town. Feliciano was the younger and friendlier between the two. He never forgets to invite Matthew out even though the latter refuses more often than not. Lovino, on the other hand, though rude and often uses offending language, helps him in getting around the town. Matthew might be one of the few people who Lovino treats _normally_. Then there's Antonio who doesn't hide the fact that he likes (really, really likes) the older twin. He was the most cheerful person in their odd little group and his demeanour is a little like Alfred's. Although brilliant in his studies, the curly brown haired man can never seem to say the right thing in certain (awkward or tension-filled) situations.

Occasionally, Matthew would eat out with the Nordic duo, Berwald and Tino. Both worked for the little sweets shop just across the street from the library. Berwald is a blonde tall guy with glasses whose eyes always look like they're shooting daggers. In reality, he is a gentle and sweet bear with amazing baking abilities. Tino was about five or six inches shorter than Berwald. He has lighter shade of purple doe eyes and golden locks of hair. Matthew and Tino shared a passion for reading making them get along well. On their days off, they would spend an hour or two sitting in the park and sharing books. Berwald would also be there to make sure both get the best pastries for a nice picnic… and to make sure they actually eat and not just spend the whole day blabbering about their favourite authors and such.

Contrary to the warmth his newfound friends are giving, Ivan's cold treatment was worse.

He need not the man to tell him verbally that he was unwelcomed; he was smart enough to feel the hostility the Russian was giving off whenever they would pass each other accidentally in the spacious house.

From time to time, Francis would call and update him on things back in America. Alfred had called once. His voice was still a little hoarse but the light and life in it was back.

"Mattie! I miss you! Nobody's telling me where you are. Why can't I see you? I was really frightened when you weren't there when I opened my eyes…" He talked and talked and talked until Mrs. Jones told him that he had to rest.

Matthew had always been a good listener. People came to him when they needed someone to talk to and well, Matthew liked how he seemed…_needed _by this people when he listens. Once when he was much, much younger, before his life with the Jones, he sat with a man in the park two blocks away from where he lived. The man was young, probably in his early twenties. He was wearing a dishevelled suit, his eyes puffy, and dried tear tracks running down his cheeks. His mood matched their cold airy surroundings. Later, he would tell the boy how his fiancée who he's been with for three years cheated on him- with his boss, how he unfairly lost his job and he needed it because with his mother was sick and no one else was going to provide for her. It was a sad, sad story. Matthew cried with him, when he left, he had hugged Matthew and uttered thanks.

_"But I don't think you should give up, Mister. Because in the end, you know, I think, things will work out. As long as we do what we can. Well, that's what my Momma used to tell me… back when… uhm… she actually talked to me."_

Though there were days that he wants to tell Alfred to stop talking, he never did. Instead, he let half his mind to wander off. But right then, at that moment of relief, he never wanted for that voice to be silent.

"I'm sorry Mattie if Alfred bothered you. That boy just doesn't get the concept of time zones." Mrs. Jones laughed at the end of the other line. "Are you fine there? Are you getting enough rest?"

"Yes, Auntie," Matthew said as he tried to stop the tears from falling, "tell Alfred that I miss him too, that I'm sorry I wasn't there when he woke up, that I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry…." He continued to murmur. Mrs. Jones cooed and, in a fake strict, tone told him, "Now, young man, this isn't your fault. Remember that. None of this was ever your fault."

And those tears fell down from his eyes, trailing down his cheeks and chin.

oOooOooOooOo

It was three nights later that he heard a crashing sound downstairs. Matthew had just gotten out of the shower. Of course, being a worry wart, the first thing he thought of was that robbers broke inside. If he though about it, there was a large Russian man inside the house – the very same man who owned place, he need not to worry.

In the end, what he found there instead was worse. Ivan Braginsky was passed out drunk on the floor, several bottles of vodka and other various liquors lay (he was quite sure they used to decorate the cabinet – the similar cabinet which was now void of its contents). Some of them were empty, some half-filled, and others seemed to have just hit the floor directly. The first thing that Matthew's mind processed was that Ivan might be suffering from alcohol poisoning, next, he might be choking on his own vomit and, lastly, shards of broken glass was everywhere.

Hurriedly, the blonde went to the bigger man's side unawares of the sharp glass piece just in front of him. It cut through his socks leaving him to yelp in pain. Blood started to soak the white fabric. At first, he stood frozen and clueless of what to do. It hurts like hell. Soon enough, he knelt and gently touched the shard. It hurts. It hurts. He wanted to cry. Taking it between his thumb and index finger, Matthew made a quick pull. For a few moments, he just breathes in and out, trying to take his mind of the pain. After removing it, he limped towards the Russian.

Luckily for the both of them, there was no serious complications with Ivan, only that he was dead drunk.

With Ivan's build being undeniably larger than Matthew, it had been a Herculean task just trying to lift him up and with his own injury, it became twice as hard. He dragged the inebriated Russian to his room not caring that Ivan specifically told him not to go there. As he walked, trail of fresh blood followed his path.

oOooOooOooOo

It wasn't Ivan's first time to lash out like how he did the night before. What joke would it be if it were? In truth, he had had to change all the bottles in the cabinet at least five times now. He could vividly remember the first time he threw and broke a glass. He was only renting an old and battered apartment then. The thought that he was alone and suddenly got him after a hard long day's work filled with iniquity from his co-workers and weird and silent but accusing stares from strangers. Here, he was different—he was so, so alone. His whole body wracked with sobs; he screamed awful, tormenting howls throughout the night. The following morning, Ivan Braginski buried all juvenility in him and started to climb his way into the top.

In the course of the years, he had managed to help his family in Russia and himself. No longer were they dirt poor, no longer did people taunt.

He was used to waking up on the cold floor surrounded with thrash and, not so often, covered in his sweat and puke. He was used to cleaning up after himself and enduring the unnerving silence as he did so. The Russian male never once supposed that he would wakeup comfortably in his own bed, his dirty clothes taken care of and beside him a glass of water and pills for headache.

Aroma of pancakes met his senses and as if on cue, his stomach growled. He had to do a double take before the facts finally registered in his brain. That boy, Matthew Williams, just took care of his sorry ass last night. He groaned in shame as he stepped into the shower. Matthew had been in his room; his orders were directly disobeyed but he'd let it slip now.

Downstairs, there was no sight of the mess he did. Bottles that were still in good condition lined the cabinet- empty or not. Matthew was setting up the table for two. It was obvious from his heavy eyes that he had stayed up all night cleaning up Ivan's mess. Much to Ivan's surprise, he actually felt a little guilty about it.

It was the first time they sat on the table together after many months of staying under the same house, but breakfast was taken in silence. The only noise was made by the occasional clank made by the silverwares against the plate.

"I'm heading out. Just leave those on the sink and I'll fix 'em later," Matthew said. Ivan was stunned at the softness of the smaller man's voice. It was sadly the first time he ever heard the blonde speak to him. It made him think of how harsh he's been the past few weeks. It seems like the guilt was piling up in just one day with just one act of kindness from the boy.

Just as Matthew was about to leave the room, Ivan noticed the limp in his walk yet paid no serious attention to it.

It wasn't until a little while later when found Matthew's wallet on the counter.

'He'd be walking to and fro then…'

oOooOooOooOo

It was half past seven and Matthew was still not there. Well, Ivan was very much aware that he sometimes gets back late. But it had been the first time he noticed the male's presence or his absence for that matter. Getting out of his cramped library-turned-study room, he decided to do something else now that he was advised (more like ordered) by his boss to take a day or two vacation. His distress must have been seething greatly he couldn't contain it to himself.

The fact was that Ivan Braginski hated losing. And he just did. He didn't get the deal he worked hard for, all those sleepless nights gone to waste. He must admit that the thrill of someone getting in level with him was exciting; the losing part wasn't. It was undeniably and utterly _frustrating._

It was so frustrating he did what he did last night.

There was no work left for him at that moment. Beilschmidt made sure of it. So, with nothing else in his mind, he had the chance to get a better look at his place which seemed to be different all of the sudden. Everything was in place yet at the same time gave a different feel. Then Ivan saw it, or rather, saw none of it. The layers of dust that used to cover the few decors and paintings were gone. And visiting various more places of his house, he learned that everything was squeaky clean.

It wasn't that Ivan didn't know how to clean. Living alone for long just gave him the idea that it wouldn't matter anyway. But right then, he thought: having the little lad around wasn't so bad after all.

In the kitchen, he took care of the remaining dishes, intending to at least do something for Matthew.

The time passed by and by the time it struck eight quarter, Ivan started to wonder on Matthew's whereabouts.

To keep his minds off of things, he decided to a hot relaxing shower. That was until he noticed the pile of tissue soaked in blood on his trash bin and the little spots of red on the tiled floor.

oOooOooOooOo

oOooOooOooOo

oOooOooOooOo

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REVIEWS WILL BE REALLY, REALLY APPRECIATED. In fact, the only reason I'm going to continue this is because of the five I have. It's good to know that people are actually reading this. But it's also different to know what you guys think of this story. And since this is the only thing I managed to save... it would help to know, you know, that it'd be worth completing this.

Thanks. And sorry for sounding so annoying... (just going through tough times)


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **Have you read the edited version of chapter 2? You really ought to. Reviews are welcomed. BTW, this might contain grammatical errors, or spelling mistakes, or confusing stuffs (hopefully, there's not much).

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the characters...

* * *

Matthew needed to get away. With the help of Detective Bonnefoy, he ends up living with Ivan Braginski who wants nothing to do with his mess, but later accepts the boy's presence. When "he" finds Matthew and threatens to take him away, what would Ivan do to keep his new found joy? AU. RusCan.

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III

**He** felt the steps collide with various body parts. He kept on rolling down and down and down. And it hurt. It hurt so much. He could feel bruises forming – lots of them. The sensation of falling was very much new to him. Hitting the pavement, Matthew heard a shout for his name in a familiar voice. But before fully recognizing the owner, everything blacked out.

oOooOooOooOo

Whitewalls, smell of chemicals, and the regularly beeping machine by his side… Matthew knew exactly where he was. It was a place he had hoped to stay away from. Sadly, fate had another thing coming for him. He felt slight pain in his head and back. Bruises covered a good part of his arms and abdomen. Falling down at least ten steps of the staircase could do that to you. And he was very fortunate to not have broken his neck already. He groaned in frustration upon realizing that even the slightest movement of his limbs hurt like hell.

'Stupid, stupid, luck,' he thought frustrated.

There were lapses in his memory. He couldn't quite remember exactly how he fell down the stair. He was about to go home. He wasn't meeting up with anyone that afternoon and the library was doing some renovations – so no work for him too. The only thing to do was go back in the confinement of his room in Ivan's house. What did happen? Stepped on the wrong foot? Slipped? Stepped over untied shoe laces? Ridiculous, really… after all, he was Matthew Williams and not Alfred Jones. He had always been more careful than his cousin. Always.

"Ahh! Birdie! Finally, you're awake." Red eyes met his and the familiarity of the white hair and confident grin warmed him. On his bedside, Gilbert stood. He is one of Francis's close friends and coworker. "That was some tough fall you had. Good thing I was just passing by to fetch you. It's miracle you got nothing broken – just some number of bruises and a sprained ankle. Still not pretty though and –"

"Gil…" His voice was a little hoarse and weak. Still, he managed to make a small smile for the other man.

"The one and only awesome me," Gilbert said.

"What are you doing here?"

Though the albino seemed unreliable and too dense for a detective's job, he is actually an impressive worker: working various side line jobs during the night to gain more connections, a known manipulative streak and remarkable acting skills put into use during important tasks, and most importantly was his focus and determination in his missions. He rarely ever gets a break. The last time he did was when he was a newbie and still under Francis's wing. Now, the young man was looked by the French as an equal.

"I've missed you so much, that's why I asked Franny for a vacation and… well, since Big Boss didn't really allow me one, he signed me up to be your look out. My brother lives around here too so I wouldn't have to buck in with the cold Russian bastard."

"He's name is Ivan. That's not a very nice thing to say, Gil." Matthew's tone remained gentle as he was used to the detective's rudeness.

"_Ja, ja, _I'm sorry." Gilbert said not really sorry for his actions. But they were both used to this.

oOooOooOooOo

Ivan was starting to get uneasy as the hour passed by. Even he knew that Matthew never got back this late. The latest he'd ever seen the boy arrive was a few minutes past nine. It was now half an hour after ten. His usual smile wasn't sported and furrows in his brows were noticeable though he tried to keep a straight face as he stared at the cold dinner he had prepared for two. Yes, he, Ivan Braginski, cooked for someone else besides his sisters. Too bad the other person wasn't there to actually eat it.

Being the only boy in children of three, he took the responsibility of helping out in the chores and earning money for the household seeing that his druggie of a father wouldn't. Ivan had to grow up earlier than normal boys do in order to stay alive. And thus, some of his childishness, he was unable to outgrow.

It wasn't worry that he first felt when the hours one by without Matthew's arrival. It was more of angry apprehension. His train of thoughts was a little bit eccentric even to his liking. But he couldn't help it. It felt as if he was let down. He did things he hadn't done in years just to please Matthew and show his appreciation for what the boy had done, and yet Matthew didn't come. Of course, he didn't give a word beforehand. The whole thing was spontaneous, after all. Still, it stung. Deep inside, Ivan knew Matthew was not at fault. In truth, he was the one who had to apologize – and not just for what happened the night before but for everything.

The food he prepared went down the drain. And as he sat alone in the table, he couldn't help but look at his liquor cabinet. There were still undamaged bottles of vodka and other various alcohols, but he was smart enough not to yield into that temptation, again, so soon.

When the clock struck eleven pm, he decided to call the French bastard.

"_Oui?_"

"What is Matthew's phone number?" It was probably the first time he had said the boy's name. There was a chuckle on the end. One that said he had known all along.

"Well, Monsieur Braginski, it took you long enough to ask for that. Isn't it funny that I didn't find it absurd that you're asking somebody miles away know the contact of someone who you're living with?"

"_Da. _Now, what is his contact?"

Bonnefoy gave him two numbers: Matthew's and some person named Gilbert.

"If _mon petit _doesn't answer, try contacting Gilbert. He's supposed to be there by now."

"Who?"

The beeping sound on the other line was the only response he got.

He dialled Matthew's number impatiently not really knowing what to say to him. He'd never really acknowledged his presence until then. But Ivan was used to this kind of things. He drives through head first and fix things along the way. Well, at least at work it works perfectly fine. It was one of his best assets.

The phone was turned off on purpose which agitated the Russian even more. _'How dare he?!' _Anger was quickly building up inside him.

Next, he tried Gilbert's number.

"Halo, the awesome Gilbert Beilschmidt speaking." '_Beilschmidt?_ _As in Ludwig Beilschmidt? He even sounds German too.'_

"_Da._ This is Ivan Braginski—"

"Ah, the Russian who took in Mattie. Hey Mattie, look, Braginski's calling me!" _'So Matthew is with him.' _Suddenly, Matthew being with that German didn't suit with him well.

"_Da._ Where is Matthew? It's getting really, really late and Francis told me to keep an eye on him." Lie. He wanted it for himself. Ivan tried to keep his voice steady. He knew immediately that he wouldn't get along well with the Beilschmidt.

"Oh. Well, he's in the hospital, he sort of—" Ivan didn't wait for the rest of the sentence. '_Matthew is in the hospital?_'

As calmly as he could he rushed to grab his car keys. There was only one hospital in town and thank whatever entity is up there that it was only twenty minutes away from his house.

oOooOooOooOo

"Well, that was weird. And he hung up on me. How'd he even get my number? Did you, Birdie?"

"Uhm, no… I don't even have his. I bet he's just worried about locking house. Good thing I'm forced here until morning. And would you please stop calling me that." Matthew had been wondering exactly what Gilbert had just asked. It led him to think of his own things. Since he couldn't remember much from before the accident, he doesn't where most of his stuff went including his phone. (According to the Austrian doctor, it was due to the shock he received moments before the fall. Hopefully, some things would trigger his memories because apparently, they discovered a bruise covering his shoulders as if someone had grabbed him.) "Gil, where's my bag?"

"Oh, it's right there." The albino pointed towards the other end of the room. He stood, grabbed the red and white knapsack, and lightly put it by the bed where the Matthew could easily access it.

A handkerchief, cap, and the extra shirt he always carried around in case of emergency weren't there. His phone was nowhere in sight too.

"Where was this when you found me?" Gilbert could sense the hidden panic in the younger male's tone.

"Ah well, actually, while the ambulance was doing some first aid procedure, a seemingly very happy Spaniard and a grumpy Italian descended the stairs with your stuff. They actually came here with me but had to leave immediately." He stopped a little as if remembering, "… which reminds me: I never got their names."

"Those were Antonio and Lovino. Did they say anything else? Was there someone there when the accident happened?" Matthew said, edginess seething lightly in his voice. "Some of my things are missing, Gilbert –" He involuntarily let out a small whimper. "– _Mon Dieu, _Gilbert, I have to get away." His breathe became heavy and ragged. Gilbert rushed to his side, patting his back and whispering soothing words.

"You're safe here Matthew. You might have just forgotten that you didn't bring those things. You might have lost them long before the accident. Deep breathes, Matthew, follow me. Breathe in. Out. In. Out. There, there, just go get some more rest."

As the small hiccups from the quietly sobbing Matthew died down, tense-filled silence consumed the air. And the pale blonde boy was once again lulled into sleep.

oOooOooOooOo

It must have been his mind playing tricks on him or maybe not. The time reads '5 00 AM'. And he was seeing Ivan in the doorway – just standing there awkwardly. He tries to sit up but felt weight on his torso – Gilbert was fast asleep hugging him with half his body on the bed and the other still seated.

It wasn't anything unusual. Before the Jones took him in, Francis and Gilbert who at that time shared an apartment took him in for a few weeks. Since Francis always had some random person in his bed, he slept in Gilbert's room. The albino didn't like sleeping on the couch and also didn't want a guess to sleep on the furniture, so it always ends up with both of them squeezing themselves into the single mattress and more often resulting to those hugs.

In a way, Gilbert and Francis were his brothers- retarded at times but undeniably reliable brothers.

He heard the door moderately slam and when he looked where the other had been, Ivan wasn't there.

The next time he woke up, Gilbert and Ivan were staring or rather, glaring at each other from the opposite sides of the hospital bed. "Uh, good morning." Two heads turned their attention to him.

"Ah, Matthew, glad to see you awake." Ivan greeted warmly. He tried really hard to sound open and warm, but Matthew knew something was still off.

"Hey, Mattie! Guess what? You could leave now. The doctor said you should take it easy for a while which could also translate to – ha! – you stuck at home. And I've talked to my brother. Since I'm sticking around for a while, he says we could use his spare apartment just a few blocks from the university. Isn't –"

"He's staying with me." There was no hint of hesitation. Ivan said the statement in utter confidence.

Of course, it had shocked Matthew. Two grown men on his opposite sides were trying to kill each other mentally with the daggers in the glare they're giving out.

"I just want to get out of here first." Matthew said pressing his index on his forehead as if trying to prevent the crease that was threatening to form.

"If it is alright with Mr. Braginski, I'd like to stay with him, Gil. It's just going to be a hassle moving my things again."

"I'm very much okay with it." Ivan beamed.

"Birdie! What's gotten into you?" Gilbert sulked.

"Oh don't be such a baby. I can still visit you or stay overnight or something – I'll even introduce you to my friends. Now, help me get up so I can leave this damned white building."

The Russian and German did not stop sending hostile signals to each other. But they were careful not to let Matthew notice.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: 'Don't own the characters~

* * *

Matthew needed to get away. With the help of Detective Bonnefoy, he ends up living with Ivan Braginski who wants nothing to do with his mess, but later accepts the boy's presence. When "he" finds Matthew and threatens to take him away, what would Ivan do to keep his new found joy? AU. RusCan.

* * *

**He** was not deaf. Of course he heard the poor kid the first time he was asked to let him go. But it was so much fun to see his flustered face that Ivan just couldn't help but to continue carrying him like a blushing bride.

"Um, Mr. Braginski, Sir, I can walk now."

And years of experience in the business firm made him well aware of the inimical glares the albino walking beside him was sending. "We could have gotten him a wheelchair." He said. Ivan replied with a blank smile.

_"If you just want some care taker for your house, then let me help you find one. I'll even pay for it myself. There's no need to for Mattie to stay with you."_

Remembering the conversation earlier made his blood boil. Still, he composed himself.

_"But Matthew himself said he prefers to stay with me."_

The doctor was doing some final check - up and prescription for the youngest of the trio. Ivan and Gilbert waited impatiently outside of the room, each eying the other party in an accusing manner.

_"I don't know what's keeping him from leaving but he certainly does not need someone to add to his problems."_

_"And exactly what problems?"_

Gilbert released a threatening growl as a response which was cut off when Matthew and the Austrian doctor got out of the room. Ivan was sure of one thing though, he did not like the way the German told him off. Supposedly, Beilschmidt was also a detective – a good one at that too – and a close friend of Francis. It made his curiosity about the soft spoken blonde boy grow and dislike for the older male deeper.

_Problem? What problem? Why is Matthew here?_

_S_aid boy was squirming in his arms in an attempt to get away. He tightened his grip around him and lowered his face to whisper, "I know about the cut in your foot. I don't like owing people. So let me do this in exchange." Matthew's face blanched.

_'Of course… typical of Ivan… and I thought our relationship was getting better.'_

The drive didn't last long. Gilbert, much to Ivan's disdain, insisted on sitting with Matthew in the backseat of the car. There was difficult silence inside the vehicle. Matthew looked back and forth the German and Russian. He wanted to desperately dissolve the unnerving stillness, but even he had his matters to think of, so he let the older males deal with themselves albeit not the most responsible choice.

* * *

The stew in front of him was prepared by his (technically) landlord. Matthew needed to do a double take before snapping out of his reverie. Across the table, the said man was smiling at him as if urging him to try it. Not wanting to seem rude, he picked the spoon and did. To his surprise, he actually liked the taste. Then the small bits became more and soon he was eagerly consuming the stew.

"Uh, thank you. It's been so long since someone did this for me." He shyly said. Ivan's smile remained the same though there was a light sparkle in his eyes marking his amusement. "_Da. _Did you like it?" Matthew nodded, setting the utensils down as he was done.

As soon as they reached the front door of Ivan's house, Gilbert was harshly ignored and advised to "run long and don't bother." The albino left with promises to come back soon. And that specific soon wasn't something Ivan was hoping for. To make matters worse, Gilbert really is his boss's brother – meaning he couldn't actually do anything to him unless he's looking forward to getting fired and/or sentenced to community service (the latter part, he was sure he could pull a few strings for that.)

Two nights later, he was ready to get back to work. It was a double edged sword for him though. It was wonderful that he'll be able to get back to doing what he was good at and bad because Gilbert would be spending more time in his house, alone with Matthew since the lad wasn't allowed to school until the following Monday and Gilbert will be there to assist him in basically everything and, more importantly, to keep him from dying out of boredom.

But the thought that in a few more days, Matthew will be completely back to normal, and that things will be back to how they were somehow comforted Ivan and it was in this belief that he held onto to keep himself from locking Gilbert down his basement.

It wasn't until later one night when he lay wide awake on his bed, listening as Matthew struggled to walk past the hallway to the kitchen to fetch a cold glass of water, that he realized getting back to the normal routine means the other boy's existence is equivalent to nothing. _Nada. Zilch. _For some damned reason, the idea didn't quite satisfy – a deep contrast to when he just learned of the boy's arrival. Finally tired of the sound of Matthew's losing feat to get downstairs, Ivan got up from his bed in nothing but his boxers.

Matthew had a dream. No, nightmare would be a better term. He was running, running, running. Something was there. In the dark, it hides. And although he did his best to get away, he soon found himself enveloped in a dark material that restricted his moves. And then he heard his name –  
"Matthew… Matthew…" – sung in a cloying manner. Suddenly he wasn't alone anymore. Alfred, Mrs. Jones, Francis, and Gilbert were there too. Only that, black spears were thrust to their bodies, multiple of them. And he screamed and screamed but no voice came. "Matthew… Matthew…"

He woke up after that horrid scene. He clutched the stuffed polar bear to his chest and focused on getting his breath even. His pyjamas were soaked with sweat and the sheets and blankets tossed in different direction. Usually, Matthew slept with minimal movements and finds his self in a position not much different from when he slept. The nightmares make him like this – a dishevelled wreck.

Getting up and reaching the stairs had been hard enough. He had to lean on the wall for support or he'd fall face first in the wooden floor. Every move he made hurt and the cut on his foot didn't make things easier.

"You're not getting anywhere, _da?_"

Matthew let out a gasp. His footing slipped and once again, he was falling. He closed his eyes in anticipation, but instead of the pain, cold arms wrapped around his torso and he was drawn to the broad chest of Ivan.

"I hope that it's not one of your hobbies to fall down a flight of stairs.— " Ivan gave an amused chuckle "— I'm starting to think that you're quite a masochist, Matthew."

He was deeply embarrassed, alright. If it weren't so dark, his red face would be funnier to look at. "Uh, no, I'm usually, ah, very careful, it's just—uhm …" He trailed. Noticing that the older male's hand was still wrapped around him, Matthew let out a small yelp before distancing himself. "Sorry. I was just going to fetch a glass of water. Sorry to wake you."

"_Nyet._ I was awake anyway." Matthew did not meet Ivan's gaze which amused Ivan all the more. The blonde was stuttering in front of him; he was uncomfortable yet to polite to just leave. "If you'd just to back to your room, then I'd get you water. _Da?_"

Matthew was forced to follow seeing that Ivan had gone down without waiting for his reply. With a defeated sigh, he limped his way to his room.

* * *

The young blonde curled in his bed, clutching his stuffed polar bear. It was taking Ivan a while that he wasn't that thirsty anymore. His sheets were still in the tangled mess he originally left them and he had no intention of fixing them soon. The nightmare was keeping him awake.

Losing a few bits of memories wasn't entirely unusual for Matthew. As a matter of fact, it was his defence mechanism. Memories from nights he unconsciously deems frightening are automatically locked up somewhere deep and dark. When he tries to recall things, all Matthew could see were hazy snippets. They were never enough to answer his questions.

And what scared him most was that what if moving all the way to Canada was pointless. The earlier incident has left him doubtful. What if—

There came a small knock and Ivan entered the room. Matthew sat up and took the glass from Ivan. In several big gulps, the contents were emptied.

"Thank you," he murmured silently.

"Francis called earlier," Ivan started, "He sounded really upset. He says he wouldn't answer your phone and that of his annoying friend goes straight to voice mail."

"Uh, about that… I sort of lost mine when I fell" _along with some other personal belongings. _He left it unsaid feeling like the matter was unimportant to the other. "I'll save enough money to get a new one and –"

"That cannot be good. It'll take quite some time, _da?_ Tomorrow we shall shop for your new phone."

"But I have no –" Matthew was completely cut off.

"It's is taken care of, Matthew." The Russian clasp his hands together in a childish way with delight in his eyes. So rest now and I'll see you in the morning."

The door closed with a gentle thud and Matthew was left alone once again.

"I can't even walk straight yet."

* * *

Due to the aforementioned condition, Matthew and Ivan didn't get to leave to shop until the day before Matthew was due to be back in school.

Whether it was the way the taller man looked or a certain air around him that made people freeze, it felt weird walking beside him. People were constantly looking their way. Girls ogled at them. The shorter boy clutched the paper bag that contained his new mobile phone tighter. He can practically hear them loud and clear. "That man looks Russian, he's kinda hot…" "That blondie is cute too…" "Do you think they have girlfriends?" "Better yet, aren't they together?" Hearing the last comment, he moved a little farther from his companion. Matthew felt a little uncomfortable. It wasn't every day that people noticed and stared at him.

Ivan wasn't oblivious to the whole conversation of the brats just behind them. And the last comment irked him especially; it made Matthew move a little farther from him.

Ivan Braginski was a man who confronted his, fears, enemies, and obstacles head on. Sure, the feeling was relatively new, but he wasn't a coward. He knew that these past few days something about Matthew he didn't see then was clear presently. He couldn't help but notice how hard the boy tries to be independent, or how thoughtful he was even in simple things. Matthew's laugh when talking to Gilbert who dropped by often was something he wanted to have too. To him, it was the sound of purity and peace reverberating in his whole house.

Like? Love? Or a mere amusement? Whatever it was making Matthew an odd man out; it doesn't change the fact that Ivan has feelings for him.

The two men were about to cross the street to get to the parking lot when a cheerful voice followed by a scolding one called out.

"Matthew!"

"Slow down, you idiot. You're making a scene!"

* * *

Though most people perceived the twenty one year old Lovino Vargas as someone who was solely rude and insecure, Antonio knows his little love was more than that. He was actually very perceptive of the people around him. He was very observant and possessed a keen eye for details. So, when the Italian voiced that something was off with the man that bumped into them, Antonio knew that it was close to the truth if not the truth itself. Finding their blonde friend at the base of the stairs confirmed the suspicion. "I knew he was holding Matthew's shirt, dammit!" Lovino cursed.

The whole night was spent pacing and knitting eyebrows. There was nothing that Antonio said that calmed the Italian. After all, there were a very few number of people that Lovino genuinely liked and Matthew Williams was one of them.

"You stupid Canadian! You didn't even bother calling us." The Italian huffed, arms crossed over his chest, and an angry frown on his lips. Behind him, Antonio had his hands on Lovino's shoulders, calming the shorter boy. "What Lovi here is trying to say is that we were really worried about you. You see, when we tried visiting the hospital, you were already discharged. We also realized that we didn't know where you stayed. And we sort of – ahh – bumped into this suspicious guy before we found you unconscious with that albino." Antonio explained all too quickly sounding as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"I'm sorry," Matthew uttered surprised, "I lost my phone when I fell."

"Hm, fine. When are you getting back anyway? Last time I saw you, you looked like you were ran over by a truck three times." Lovino didn't shift from his position.

"Actually, I'm well enough for class starting tomorrow." Matthew answered.

It was Antonio who first acknowledged the presence of the older man with Matthew. "Hola, Señor," He greeted. The response the other gave was a brief nod of the head and the unchanging smile.

"Ow, Antonio, Lovino, this is Ivan…um… I'm staying with him—"

"You're living with him? He's not your boyfriend or anything, is he?" There was sudden incredulity in Lovino's voice as he eyed the said man from top to bottom with a threatening gaze.(Or at least something that resembled that mood, because it was a bit obvious that behind the tough act the Italian was putting, he was cowering.)

"Ah! No! It's nothing like that. Some things happened back home and I have to stay here for a while." Lovino let out a satisfied hum. "Fine—" he looked at the time "Look, we've got to get going if we don't want to miss the movie. We'll talk to you tomorrow."

"Bye Matthew. Bye Ivan." Antonio waved and the two young men left.

* * *

Curiosity. Yes, Ivan decided that it was indeed curiosity that got him noticing his housemate. Watching his interaction with his friends and how reserved his answers about his situation were, it made him more aware of the boy's attempt to seclude himself. Puzzles had always intrigued the man; so perhaps, he was seeing Matthew as one. After all, life was getting boring and he was sure as hell not going to lose any more bidding any time soon.

He put down the stack of papers he was holding and removed his reading glasses. Pushing the table so his chair would roll further, Ivan stretched his limbs and yawned. The clock on his desk flashed: 9:45 PM and deeming it as a respectable time to rest, he stood and turned off the lights.

In the room not far from his, the object of his attention laid on the soft mattress of his beds.

Unbeknownst to both, a letter was left clinging to the window of the younger male. It fluttered against the glass as the cold sea breeze blew, but never was the wind enough to displace it. Oh how he would wish it had been the case. There is a reason people say that ignorance is bliss. Though anyone can admit that it doesn't bring much good too.

Only one word was written in the beautiful and practiced cursive script: '_Matthew'. _

* * *

(**A/N**: I'm trying really hard to improve my writing , I'm still not satisfied with this but I hope it's not that bad because I'm spending every free time I have (it's not much too) trying to properly write this. The story is bound to be done in four chapters more, I think though I know I've mentioned that this wasn't supposed to be that long. I think it's because I desperately want to _establish_ my characters. Too bad I'm not doing such a good job at it.

Also, I just can't wait to write a story for my OTP that's why I included a bit of them here.

Like always, reviews are welcomed. And my mood in doing this is highly affected by people's responses. Bueno, hasta luego~)


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** Oh glob! I'm so sorry for this delay. I had to do several things that I deem far more important than writing this (eg studying for a college entrance test, making money). Because of that I wrote this in like forty minutes and I haven't gone over it properly. But don't worry, this was really intended to be a short chapter... just introducing the OC of an antagonist.

Good thing is that it's almost the holidays and setting aside all the projects due next year, I could do whatever I want for two weeks~yay!

I am very, very, very grateful for the feedback I got on the last chapter and the whole story in general though I myself am not very pleased with my writing capability. So, thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Honestly, I just want to get over this without ruining the entire fic with a crappy ending. I'm itching to write a Spamano haha. It'll have to wait.

Lastly, (if you're still reading this, ohmy~ thanks for putting up with my senseless rambling) what do you think about the December 21 doomsday rumors? If it were true, it'd be sad that I won't get to finish this story and worst of all, I wouldn't know what happens in Hetaoni (there are rumors that Hetaoni will resume sometime around early next year). But anyways, I don't really believe it. So 'til my next update.

Hope you like this. And don't hesitate to point out mistakes or anything that could improve this story. I really, really, appreciate those kind of response.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own the characters...

* * *

Matthew needed to get away. With the help of Detective Bonnefoy, he ends up living with Ivan Braginski who wants nothing to do with his mess, but later accepts the boy's presence. When "he" finds Matthew and threatens to take him away, what would Ivan do to keep his new found joy? AU. RusCan.

* * *

**Matthew** is pale and beautiful with his blonde hair and purple eyes.

Oh yes, yes, the boy is breath taking and beautiful.

Matthew is kind and gentle.

He wants him all for himself because such purity needed to be hidden from the dark and cruel world.

That smile he had offered a stranger and the comfort to his grief… he needed to be saved from the evil of this place.

Matthew was born in Canada but raised in the suburbs of America where he almost didn't exist.

_She deserved that death. She always forgot about him. Poor, poor, Matthew. _

He attended school where the teachers and students overlooked him.

He had only made one real friend in his long years of stay there. The Cuban moved away shortly after middle school though.

He always brought an extra shirt with him whenever he goes. As well as a small first-aid kit.

He knew how to sew and does this better than most ladies.

Matthew had never lashed out on anyone.

He spoke fluent French – Canadian French, at least.

He loves pancakes and can go all week just eating pancakes. He had when his mother went to a week-long conference leaving him all alone with nothing.

He had learned to live by himself at the tender age of seven.

He loves the colour red, read Jane Austen, and plays hockey quite well.

But you can't expect him to outrun anyone.

He knows everything about him now. He knows. He knows.

He knows because he follows. He worships and he loves.

Yes, yes, he loves Matthew.

Matthew is his and no one else's.

Matthew is his and he's going to take him somewhere far.

Matthew is his and he's going to protect him.

Matthew is his.

Matthew is his.

oOoOoOo

The first note he sent was immediately disposed. The piece of paper was burned in the Russian's spacious backyard, with its ashes joining the earth.

He watched the boy return inside with a sly smile.

"Oh, Mattie, you cannot indeed leave evidences. Soon, my lovely, lovely pet, I'll come for you."

The second time Matthew took the note from his lockers; he ran to the rest rooms and skipped classes for the rest of the day. He had called Gilbert who called Francis who advised them to tell Ivan. It was opposed by the Canadian himself. "I couldn't drag him into this. I feel grateful enough he's letting me live with him." Francis had sounded upset with this but respected the decision in the end. "Just be careful, _mon cher_… be careful."

The next few days, Beilschmidt kept a close eye on him while lurking the shadier parts of town to gain informants (because surely they would come handy). He followed the boy to school and usually walked him home. On days that certain circumstances wouldn't allow him to, he'd shamelessly ask Braginski to pick the boy after work hours finishes which then leaves Matthew in the company of his friends a little while longer.

Ivan's curiosity grew by the day like how Matthew's anxiousness did. As they opted to share whatever meal they can, he noticed how jumpy the Canadian was being that even the slightest unannounced tap of the shoulder would send him jumping.

It wasn't until a crumpled paper from Matthew's pocket fell while he was getting of the car that the said Russian had a gist of the entire situation. He looked at the younger boy with such intensity, meeting wide purple eyes that seemingly pleaded not to ask.

_'You can never hide from me.'_

oOoOoOo

He was clever - very, very brilliant indeed. In just one week he had been able to slip five notes without being traced. The panic in the albino's eyes and the confusion in the Canadian's were amusing. Then, the added apprehension of Braginski made everything than it already was.

_'You will soon realize this is for the best.'_

"I have to get rid of the Russian. He's becoming quite a bother now, yes? Always clinging to my Mattie and walking with him everywhere. Then there's that scary looking Swede and friendly Finn. But I guess the Spaniard and Italian are harder to deal with? You've gotten quite a lot of friends, haven't you?"

It was bad for him and it was bad for Matthew.

They were feeding him lies and filling his face with false smiles.

"I'll come and take you away soon, love." He laughed in a high pitch maniacal tune.

"Oh, Mattie, Mattie, Mattie," he sang in a sickly sweet tune.

"My Mattie, we'll be together soon."

Matthew was waiting outside the campus. His friends had just left a few minutes ago. Dominique wonders if he could risk approaching his love. He could be a tourist looking for directions or an old man just passing by and giving his greetings. Would it be too much risk? Would he recognize him?

All the possibilities made him cringe in anticipation. It's only several days from now. He could wait. He cannot be rush. He has to stick to the plan. If there was a chance of jeopardizing his well thought idea, he shouldn't do it.

The view was perfect from where he was. The cafe was bustling with people all the time so it wouldn't really seem suspicious to be sitting by the large clear window. He could see him perfectly and he has no clue.

Surprise. Surprise.

The car that had come to drive and pick Matthew up arrived and the blonde rode the passenger's seat. All the while, Dom could feel himself seethe in anger.

Ivan Braginski.

That man could ruin it all for him. It had been easier when he had kept quiet and ignored his love. But now, it seems like he couldn't take his eyes of him.

Unconsciously he gripped his mug tighter and watched as the greyish blue vehicle went out of sight.

Could the Russian be after his Matthew? Has he seen what he saw in him? Does he want it for himself?

No. No. No. No.

Matthew is his.

"Excuse me, sir, is this seat taken?" The voice startled him. He turned and saw crimson pair of eyes and white hair. He shook his head. "It's free, go ahead."

The albino sat with a tray of hot chocolate and a piece of cake.

Gilbert. Gilbert Beilschmidt

– the bastard of a detective who's keeping an eye out for Matthew. He has talked to him once before in the hospital, but the lad probably won't recognize him just like he wouldn't recognize him after this meeting.

_"So, what's the boy's story?" He asked idly like it was the most normal thing as he pretended to write notes regarding the sleeping Canadian. It had been fairly easy to sneak into the employee's locker room and steal off one the uniforms.  
"Nothing interesting: he accidentally fell down the stairs." Lie. Of course, Gilbert was lying. After all, he was there when it happened. Matthew shouldn't have struggled. Then again, he should have stuck to the plan._

_It's not too late though. Not yet, at least._

One day he's blonde, the next a brunette, one day it's long and straight, after that, curly and black, sometimes a business man, sometimes an old man… there were numerous of disguises he could pull off.

"Pretty cold weather we have. Don't we?" Gilbert said trying to strike a conversation. Dom contemplated on answering or simply smiling. This is how the minds of people like him should work: always thinking and planning a step ahead. Which one would be less suspicious? Does he recognize me?

"Yes. But living here for years make you get used to it."

Fifteen minutes later, he stood up, tipped his head towards the albino, and left the café.

He rode a bus and got off just outside of the town where trees were abundant and where not many visit. Deep in the woods was a small brick house. Its broken windows were covered with wood and cob webs littered here and there.

The inside wasn't any better but it was undeniably cleaner. There was no other room except for the bathroom. On the left were a sink, plates, and cooking utensils and just beside it was a stove. On the right, an old TV atop a wooden box laid. In the centre was a table with three chairs and on the farthest corner was a single bed. And if one would look even closer, there were chains and ropes scattered in the place, as well as scraps of metal and various junks.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: **Ermm... I'm so sorry it took months for this. I hope you people still remember this. I wasn't able to write much since the last time because the awful things that were thrown at me got worse, but now, it's fine. I think. Plus, this story was longer than I thought. It's not gonna reach pass ten chapters though.

And a big thank you to the people who reviewed and gave advice and such. They really, really help me.

This chapter is not edited so please feel free to point out any mistakes that need revision. Thanks.

And oh, this might not be a big deal and such, but the only reason I'm posting tonight is because I'm already ensured a slot to one of the best (if not the best) universities in the country. I'm just so happy and I hope that by updating this I am able to share that happiness.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the characters...

* * *

Matthew needed to get away. With the help of Detective Bonnefoy, he ends up living with Ivan Braginski who wants nothing to do with his mess, but later accepts the boy's presence. When "he" finds Matthew and threatens to take him away, what would Ivan do to keep his new found joy? AU. RusCan.

* * *

**There **it was again, a piece of creamy white paper with the same cursive script, stuck inside one of the books he was returning to the shelves.

_'You're better off without them, Matthew.'_

They always had the same feel. Someone was out to get him.

For some reason, whoever was sending them knows exactly what he'll be doing thus, ensuring that nobody but him gets the messages.

It wasn't surprising, really. It was the sixth one he got and probably only the fourth one he'll tell Gilbert and, sadly, Ivan too.

_'_"You ready to go?" The sudden presence of the voice made the bespectacled boy jump. And Matthew decided the three letters Gilbert and Ivan were aware of were enough. As swiftly as he could, he slipped the sheet back into the book and inserted it in the shelf. "Hey, 'you alright? Did you get another one?"

Gilbert's piercing gaze was daring him to lie. And lie, he did. "No, no, I'm fine. Let's go." The older looked at him straight in the eye and he did his best not to flinch. The detective had always had an extraordinary perception; it was no wonder why he quickly sped to the top of the agency. "If you say so," he said shrugging, his tone, in disbelief.

A voice at the back of Matthew's head whispered he'll regret this. Maybe he would, but what was another one in a sea of thousands?

o0o0o

Ivan sat on the steps of his back porch. The sun was still up but it won't be for long. He gazed over the little budding flowers that his housemate had planted one day. Some of them had started to bloom and it was odd finding colourful bulbs amidst his desolated backyard. The flowers were small and its colours ranged from red, purple, pink, orange, and such. Although the memory of Matthew's asking him permission was vague, Ivan was sure he had mindlessly said yes. He must admit that the Canadian did pretty nice. For a place that reeked of death, the flowers were looking well taken care of.

He held a glass of vodka – just a single glass to calm his nerves – as his minds drifts back to the afternoon he found out about Matthew's obsessive follower.

_'You can never hide from me.'_

It was a shock of course: for someone as meek as Matthew to have somebody like that. Ivan couldn't even comprehend. The boy was simple and unnoticeable; he might as well be invisible. He dressed plainly and wasn't even like most guys his age. His voice was smooth and gentle, much like a girl's and he just too frail… or at least he looked like it. Sure he was really smart and kind and he made the best pancakes. And his voice wasn't all that bad. In fact, he finds it soothing. He also never seemed to mind his creepy mood swings. Heck, Matthew even took the liberty of taking care of him when he got too drunk.

So, okay, maybe he has his strong points to.

But seriously, a stalker?

The only reason Ivan was suddenly noticing the boy with the weak presence was because he got a taste of his kindness. Did the stalker feel like this too? Did he also feel obligated to take care of the boy? Because that was precisely what Ivan was feeling. After all that, he just couldn't let Matthew on his own. He didn't know plenty about him, just that he needed to hide from that one guy. It doesn't seem like it was the only thing weighing down on his shoulders though or maybe Ivan was just thinking too deeply into it. Well, either way, once in, he couldn't just leave them, now that that Prussian (as he calls himself) albino is starting to trust him a little with Matthew.

He breathed and ran a hand through his hair before taking the last sip of the strong liquid.

'Honestly, I don't know what I'm doing worrying over things that does not involve me. They only asked for a place to stay, da? So why bother?' Then a question regarding Matthew's safety would randomly pop up and Ivan just couldn't let the matter go. He sincerely enjoyed the Canadian's presence. 'He'd been so nice; perhaps it's just appropriate to return the favour.' The smile never falters from his lips. 'Ah~ Matthew, such a problem you are.'

He stood from his position and dusted off his pants.

For a while, he eyed the bottle of vodka that sat on top of his dinner table. It was tempting but he knew better. He grabbed the neck and proceeded to place it in one of the many liquor cabinets in the house.

He checked the pantry and fridge hoping to start an early dinner. 'Matthew would be home soon. I wonder what to make.' What to make turned out not to be the problem. There wasn't anything in stock. Ivan frowned. They'd been so over the incident that they've neglected their supplies. 'It's too late to do shopping now.' He thought for a while before coming to the safest conclusion.

o0o0o

When Matthew entered the house, he saw Ivan browsing through different printouts. The sun had just gone down and he was feeling exhausted. The most recent note was safely hidden in his bag. It felt uneasy walking home with Gilbert that afternoon. He was given odd and sceptical looks throughout the trip. It was as if Gilbert was egging him to tell the truth which he didn't do in the end anyway.

"I'm back."

"How are you, Mattie?" Ivan greeted with his ever-so-present smile. His treatment had become warmer and there was indifference between both male.

"Fine, thank you. What are those?"

"We're out of a lot of things so I decided it's better to have food delivered tonight. I asked a co-worker to send these to me. What do you think?"

Indeed, the stacks of paper were advertisements of several places in town. Matthew immediately separated the pizza houses for he had had enough of those back with Alfred. If it weren't too greasy, the other places offered overpriced dishes. He couldn't tell which was worse.

"Let's just have Chinese." He said. "Is that alright?"

"Of course," Ivan affirmed. He reorganized the papers and carelessly tossed them over the fridge. He picked up the phone and dialled the number.

Matthew went upstairs to change into more comfortable clothes. As he did, he couldn't shake off the feeling of being watched. It's funny, he thought, how he seemed to be one of those girls in slasher movies that his cousin loved to watched (thought deathly afraid of them at the same time). His heart rate was rising and he could feel the temperature in the room drop.

Then, he noticed the slightly ajar window.

'It's nothing. It's nothing.' He chants as he walked to close it.

Downstairs, Ivan's fingers tapped against the wooden table in rhythm. His brows were in a crease and a small frown was etched on his lips. On his other hand was his phone flashing a message from a neighbour: _Ivan, the man's there again._

o0o0o

Toris was the Lithuanian born brunette who lived nearest to Ivan. He had lost his mother, father and two siblings in a house fire back in his country and had no known relatives. Ever since, he left Lithuania to start anew. Two years after moving in one of the rooms of house, Ivan bought what was now his own home. Being the kind and polite neighbour he is, Toris had offered a hand when Ivan was moving boxes in. Nonetheless, he was, as civilly as Ivan could, rejected. The first impression of the man was definitely rude. But slowly, this minor contempt was replaced by admiration as he realized what a hard worker Ivan was. Once or twice they had gone out drinking and shared a few things here and there that, by Ivan's standard, made them good friends. It meant much more to Toris when he learned that Ivan didn't like to keep many.

He lived with two other in a little cosy house a few meters away from Ivan. The bungalow with five bedrooms with three which consist of their own bathrooms, a decent living room, kitchen area, and a porch perfect for afternoon tea was more or less three decades old. Its stone walls were painted brick red and the window sills were cob-free. It looked like a town house from the Black Forest – a newly built one, at least.

Toris, after seldom haunting dreams from the tragic accident, would often take a walk around the neighbourhood. He enjoyed the peace he so ever rarely got during the day. But one particular night, as he was nearing Ivan's property, the brunette saw a lone man standing by the other side of the street. He had tipped his head and greeted: "Good evening, Sir." And although it was dark and neither the moonlight nor the street lights were enough to give him a view of his face, Toris swears the man let out a small growl-like rumble to mark his dissatisfaction.

And he knew from experience not to let even the slightest thing go unnoticed.

o0o0o

It was not long before Ivan caught Matthew's letter. Of course, at first he thought that maybe it was a coincidence: the shady man and Matthew's letters. But when his Lithuanian friend notified him for the second time, his suspicions grew.

Every time he tries to catch the man, he fails. Telling Matthew was out of the question. He's been nervous wreck since the first incident what more if he knows? Of course, it would've done good to tell Beilschmidt about this but really, where was his proof. He doubts anyone has seen the man's face because if they had, they would have been hunting him down and he wouldn't have gotten this far.

He sends his thanks to Toris and resumed his position.

Once or twice he'd seen the man's back and that's that. The culprit is always already on the run whenever he steps out the door and he's moving as quickly as he could. It was maddening how useless he was being. It was even more infuriating why he refused to let Gilbert and Francis know about the man: Matthew might not want to run away anymore, but there's no guarantee the older two would let him do what he wants.

The soft pitter-patter of the floor told him of Matthew's presence. Instantly, he put on his smile. "Mattie, why don't we eat out tonight?" Though startled, Matthew had no qualms.

As they went out of the door that evening, Ivan turned his head to the trees and bushes where Toris had said the man was hiding. He smirked and confidently placed an arm around his younger companion's shoulder. "It's getting cold, _da?_"

'No one will touch him. Nyet. Matthew will be fine here.' He chanted at the back of his mind.

o0o0o

Unusual was an understatement to how Ivan started acting after Matthew came back from his room. First, he was called by a pet name which was only usually used by the people closest to him. Not even Tino or Berwald had reached that point yet. He didn't dislike it. Sure, it was a shock, but he had to be honest: it sort of felt nice. It was as if their relationship was getting better and stronger with each line being crossed. Secondly and the stranger one too was that upon getting out of the house, the Russian man had put his arms around him. Now this was a whole new matter completely.

Ivan probably doesn't know the inner turmoil he was causing the Canadian. Because it felt too nice and comfortable and it had Matthew wishing the car was parked several more blocks away. And it made him hate himself for ever thinking Ivan was the same as him 'cause surely he wasn't. What was he thinking? Surely it wasn't _that. _After all, there were more serious problems at hand. For example, the letters that never cease to reach him.

There was one thing Matthew was sure of amidst all the tumult, It was that it doesn't matter when he started feeling more for his housemate (landlord) because it has to stop immediately.

Sitting in the crowded Chinese restaurant, the young lad couldn't help but feel nostalgic about his life back in America. He remembers Alfred and his uncanny love for fast food and how he would always drag his older cousin along for a burger or two at the oddest times. It didn't matter whether the place was packed and that they had to wait over an hour for the food; as long as Alfred gets his burgers. It was all worth it.

"Matthew," Ivan called softly as he beckoned for him to pick his order.

"Ah yes, yes, sorry." He looked over the menu and chose the ones he was fond of. "I'll take this and this and just water please. Thank you." He said pointing his finger over the dishes' names which were written in Chinese characters.

Ivan, on the other hand, had no trouble saying their names in Chinese. Whether it was because of the frequency of time he ate there or he really knew how to read them, Matthew did not know. And perhaps, never will.

Though the two male had opted to share their meals as much as they could the previous days, Matthew had never seen Ivan with so many dish. While he had the basic shrimp fried rice, egg rolls, and chicken, Ivan's side of the table had twice as much.

They ate while having an idle chat about nothing in particular. They talked about the old movie they had watched, the breed of dog that would fit them, or places that has the perfect beach. And though they were eating at the same pace, Ivan finished just as soon as Matthew did. When the bill came, Ivan had offered to pay. "After all, I was the one who invited us out." He smiled. And the gesture said everything else.

_You can't refuse what I had just said. _

Matthew found it a little embarrassing to be paid for by Ivan like a lady, but didn't protest farther after that smile. Somehow he would repay him one way or another.

o0o0o

The place was in the middle of the commercial district and the only available parking space that night was a few blocks away. Matthew was blithely following Ivan as he led the way. The night has gotten deep and only a few establishments remained open aside the pubs and bars. The sudden halt of his companion made him look at the sign in front of them.

Ivan lifted his hands and pointed: "Why don't you and I have a drink?" He turned to look at Matthew and instead of his manipulative grin was a welcoming childish smile. "You don't have classes tomorrow, _da?_" He added, "My treat."

Matthew didn't mind. He wasn't really a drinker but once in a while was okay. That was only if Ivan stops treating him like he was indeed of constant protection and pampering. After all, it would be troublesome if he misinterprets the Russian. No one but him would end up hurt.

They sat at the back of the room where less people were. They downed their glasses in silence watching people dance to the upbeat music.

"Do you often come here?" Matthew asked trying his hardest to be heard over the noise. Ivan shook his head. "I've been here once and that was five years ago." He took a sip before continuing, "I don't like crowded places." "Me neither."

Thirty more minutes later, Matthew was starting to have double visions. On the other hand, Ivan was just as sober as they had started.

'These are no match for the ones I have at home,' he thinks.

Noticing the droop in the blond man's eyes, Ivan offered to go home. "I'll go get the car, wait for me here." He stood from his chair and was about to leave when Matthew grabbed onto his sleeves. His head was down and his other hand was gripping the side of the table, forcing his self to stand up. "But you—you… drank too." He said trying not to slur.

Ivan smiled and gently took Matthew's hands. If what he did next were out of impulse or whatsoever, he wasn't sure and doesn't care anyway. He bowed a little to meet the other's level and pressed his lips on the back of the blond's hand. "You trust me, _da_?" The latter looked at him with lazy eyes, perhaps not processing the situation properly, and nodded. "Then I won't let anything happen." He let go of the hand and slightly pat Matthew on the head. "Just wait for me here, 'kay?"

o0o0o

The wheels of his precious car were slashed open. That was all it took to get all the alcohol out of his system. His first thought was that he'd kill whoever did this and the second was a question: who did this? And being the big Russian guy that practically everyone tried not to mess with, he could only think of one person (that is beside Gilbert, because surely that man wasn't afraid of him, if anything, Gilbert disliked him).

_This was a warning._

He ran as quickly as he could back to Matthew.

Relief washed over him as Matthew's figure came into view. But instead of being alone in the table like he had expected, two other people were there. One was tall and intimidating and the other who was shorter by much in comparison just oozed warmth and friendliness.

"Oh, hi, you must be Ivan." The shorter man said getting up from the chair.

"_Da. _And you are…?" Ivan didn't mean to sound rude but circumstances had not allowed him to be less cold towards the strangers.

"Oh, pardon me. I'm Tino and this is Berwald-" the one who was introduced as Berwald nodded in acknowledgement "- we know Matthew from college."

"Man was trying to hit on Matt," Berwald said in an accent that made it difficult for Ivan to understand him completely. But as he sort out what was said, his eyes hardened.

"Yeah, and Matthew was trying to push him away while saying that you were coming ba—" the sound of a gunshot broke off Tino's sentence. Every person in the room panicked. Girls ran as quickly as they could out of scene while the other men ran to scene.

In the male's restroom, a guy was bleeding to his death. A pool of red was forming around him from the wound on his chest. Tino blanched considerably in recognition.

"That's the man we warded off…" Berwald trailed.

Beside them, Ivan was supporting a passed out Matthew.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: **Has it been a month already? o_o I'm so sorry. Graduation in two weeks and college preparations is taking up my time. Anyway, I've got this story figured out :)) I just need time (and focus) so that I could write everything.

I'm no good with romance... haven't loved someone romantically (and it would be quite a while before I do) so pardon me for this seemingly unrealistic happenings (everything I know, I learned from manga and novels). xD

I don't know if you're still reading this part but to sort of make my writing process worthwhile, I wouldn't be uploading the next chapter unless this one gets at least three (3) reviews (oh c'mon, i know at least five people are still reading this o_o). It's not so bad, is it? I mean, anonymous reviews are even welcomed.

And I would just like to say thank you for all of your feed backs. You might not know how much it means to me to have people read my story (and some even taking their time to review). I appreciate each and every sentence you write. Sometimes, when I have another episode of Im-so-worthless-I-should-go-die-in-a-hole, I look at this and say: nah, not until I finish this. So thank you, thank you, thank you.

So yeah... let's get on with this.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own the characters...

* * *

Matthew needed to get away. With the help of Detective Bonnefoy, he ends up living with Ivan Braginski who wants nothing to do with his mess, but later accepts the boy's presence. When "he" finds Matthew and threatens to take him away, what would Ivan do to keep his new found joy? AU. RusCan.

* * *

o0o0o

**Gilbert** was evenly concentrating on the pile of papers in front of him. They were neatly organized and contrary to popular belief, the albino man liked to keep his things in line. He has been staying in one of his brother's unused apartments, making an effort to move out storage boxes to and fro the place to make it tolerable for living (which was no easy task either though the younger Beilschmidt had been organized with his things as well to begin with). His clothes were neatly stacked inside the closet and several bottles of sunblock also lined the cabinet.

He was presently looking through the profiles of people Matthew had interacted with during his time in his old high school. Honestly, there weren't much people on the list. Just a few he talks to on a regular basis and a few people who remember him.

"None of them seems the type," he murmured to himself. But then again, he'd dealt with sweet ladies who had stabbed their kids or husbands to death. He set them down and pushed against the table to move further before stretching his limbs. There were other stacks of files he has to return to but Matthew's case was most important for now.

The man has proven himself dangerous. The murder three nights ago was definitely his doing.

The victim was a twenty four year old male who, according to the Finn and the Swede, was talking to Matthew minutes before the murder. The saddest part was that he'd been nice to Matthew. He had offered to accompany the latter to wait outside because the stuffy room was making him worse. The Canadian had only pushed him away because he was too drunk and didn't want to get up on his feet. At first, Ivan had assumed that Matthew was just too nice that's why he thought that way and that the man was indeed trying to pick him up only that Matthew's claim of the man's sincerity was later proven when it was found out that he came with his fiancé whom he was to marry in two months had he not died.

"We were looking forward to so much." The woman sobbed through and through grieving for what could have been her family.

After all these years of working, Gilbert was still and probably always will be touchy with the subject of death.

He spent the rest of the time comforting her. Though there was one thing she said that unnerved him. It didn't fit what Matthew's friends had said. And once again, he felt that he had not moved a single step forward with Matthew's situation.

_"… but he never left my side the whole night except for when he went to the rest room…"_

The silence of the apartment was wracking him further. He pinched the bridged of his nose and tried to make sense of the awful situation. He stood up and decided to tune up the stereo.

The soft classical piano music rang throughout the room, playing Beethoven's famous Ode to Joy. The albino hummed together with the tune as he grabbed a pair of new shirt.

He let the cold water relax his muscles as he tried to clear his mind even for just a few minutes.

He could vividly remember the first time Matthew told them of the admirer. He was a junior in high school and roughly three years after moving out of his and Francis's shared apartment. He had been as white as a sheet as he held out an envelope to the detective duo.

o0o0o

"_Da._ I'm going to take today and tomorrow off. No one is to contact me, understood? I've spoken to Ludwig, _da_. Anything that needs taking care of, I'll deal with when I get back…"

Matthew faintly processed what the older man was saying while he was in one of his in-and-out-of-consciousness episode. Something cold was on his forehead and his throat felt dry and raw. He vaguely remembers the incidents that led him to this state. It didn't take long for the Canadian to fall into slumber once again.

o0o0o

Ivan was very surprised to find out that Matthew was the emotional type when sick and, not to mention, clingy. Well, it's not like he minded at all. In fact, it was a bit amusing, really. He was in Matthew's bed standing in for a pillow. Matthew had his arm around Ivan's mid-torso and Ivan, all the same, had wrapped his arm around the latter while using his other limb to hold a book.

"As it was, we always misunderstood ourselves, and rarely understood others," he read. "Experience was of no ethical value. It was merely the name men gave to their mistakes. [1]" Ivan was not much of a wide reader. His study was filled with books mostly about business transactions, laws, and occasionally those that had pretty covers he collected. But ever since Matthew came, he had adopted a new time-killer.

As Matthew worked for the local library, he often brought home sets of borrowed books and Ivan would sometimes borrow them from him. On days when they have nothing else to talk about, their conversation usually ends up being about the novels they've just gotten.

From serious philosophical books, scientific articles, and biographies, the pair had also read and discussed less serious reads like Sarah Dessen's works (no matter how much the older male had insisted on it's girlishness) or adult romance fictions like those of Laurenston's. They've enjoyed Poe's and Rilke's poems and sometimes quoted Shakespeare's work (to both men's surprise).

Day offs were spent cooking –or at least trying to- together and then seeing an old movie or two that the Canadian would rent. There were days when Gilbert would join and those days were lesser good days for Ivan.

More and more, he finds himself attracted to his housemate. A little crush? Maybe. There was no way Ivan will let himself indulge further. Thus, when he catches himself being too comfortable he would opt to excuse himself, using work as a reason, and confusing Matthew unintentionally.

But as days passed, his attempts not to get attached are also getting harder and harder to maintain. More and more, he finds it unbearable to keep from the younger blond.

Ivan gently pushed away the hair on Matthew's face. The latter had managed to reach Ivan's chest, now using it as a pillow, and resting peacefully. He could feel the steady heartbeat of the younger man against his own. He couldn't help but ran his fingers through the blond's hair, gently repeating the action over and over. Doing so, he continued to read, unawares of other's stirring.

It felt so good that Matthew let out a satisfied hum. Ivan put the book on the nightstand before turning to his side, deciding it would be more comfortable for the both of them and letting Matthew's head fall to his arm. The younger male's eyes opened, still in a haze, and his lips curved in a shy smile. He raised his hands and traced a line on the side of Ivan's face. "Weird," he murmured before moving closer to Ivan, nose almost touching. Stunned, the Russian was frozen in his place. In a blink of an eye, Matthew's lips were against his. It was light and soft but they definitely touched. It lasted for not more than a second before the sick boy moved his head away. He cuddled closer to him and fell into another sound sleep.

Matthew had also been more open since he'd been sick. To Ivan, it was worse than seeing the blond drunk. For one, he becomes more talkative. He'd talk about anything and everything under the sun. He'd rant about his cousin, friends, work, climate change, animal cruelty, pancakes, orca whales, pasta, tomatoes, how Lovino should just let Antonio have it, or Berwald's cakes, or about France's and Gilbert's secret stash of porn in their apartment that they thought he didn't know about, and so on and so forth.

"Aww man, he doesn't usually get sick, but when he does he's worse than a whiny girl high on crack." Gilbert said laughing once after finally calming the said boy and leaving him to rest. Ivan's musings weren't far from that. "Franny and I used to fight over who's gonna be his pillow for that night. We both wanted to stay by him just in case he blurts out something funny. Those were precious times."

"_Da. _But it's really good that he's able to express himself even if it's like this."

Gilbert sat beside Ivan on the back porch of the Russian's home. A bottle and two shot glasses were between them, untouched.

"Say, Gilbert, is Matthew touchy when sick?" Ivan asked trying to keep his voice even.

"Absolutely!" Gilbert answered. "He's only been sick once when he was staying with us, but I remember it lasted for three days and in those three days only one of us could report to work. Matthew would cling to and beg for us so much that we felt like we really couldn't leave the kid. He was what then? Fifteen? Sixteen?"

"Ah yes, I have noticed. But does he do anything else besides that when sick?"

Gilbert looked at Ivan as if trying to read behind the question. He wasn't a sought out detective for nothing. He looked at the Russian with a teasing smile.

"I'll tell you what Ivan—" he grabs the glass and opens the bottle then pours a little "–that kid likes you." Surprise wasn't what Ivan would deem his feelings were right then. Perhaps, for an uncertain amount of time, they had both been instinctively sending each other hidden messages. From their gesture, looks, and reactions, maybe words were the only missing confirmation.  
"But, hey, it doesn't mean _I_ like you for him. Don't get me wrong, I think you're an admirable person, especially for your age – you're very successful and all that pleasant stuff," Gilbert said, "But I just can't figure you out completely. Me and him and Franny go all the way back, we watch out for each other. I just don't know if you're right for him, you know? Heck, do you even like him back?"  
Ivan, at that instant, was speechless. It wasn't because he didn't know what to say. He didn't know how to say it.

_I do like Mattie. I like him more than I thought I could. But I might not be the best for him. _

o0o0o

It wasn't a dream. When Matthew grasped what he just did, his usually pale complexion would turn into a pinkish hue.

Matthew Williams had kissed Ivan Braginski.

Matthew Williams had kissed Ivan Braginski on the lips.

In his inebriated-like state and with the fact that Ivan's presence wasn't really uncommon in his dreams, he had assumed that it was indeed a part of his fantasies.

It was the first time he had acted in his dream. He had wondered why it had seemed so real, why it _felt_ so real: Ivan's lips against his. The said man didn't even turn away after what he did.

Matthew didn't notice the presence of another coming closer; at least, not until the newcomer mentioned his name, "Matthew." That voice, Mathew couldn't mistake for somebody else. Startled, he tried to hide under the covers. "Ah, I suppose you remember what you did, _da?_" Matthew tried to pull the blankets tighter around him but was stopped when the other had sat on the edge of his bed and laid hands on the sheet, deliberately stopping him from creating a cocoon off it. "You do remember, don't you?"

Meekly, Matthew nodded his head whilst shutting his eyes tight. He felt movement on the bed: weight being transferred, moving closer. Arms suddenly enclosed him – _you couldn't run,_ he practically hears Ivan's voice saying – and when he opened his eyes, he came face to face with a pair of violet orbs.

"Why?"

The blond let out a small yelp and, if it were still possible, his cheeks went a few shades of red darker.

"Mattie, why?"

Matthew took a few deep breathes, shut his eyes again in refusal to meet Ivan's gaze when he finally tells him.

"I like you. I'm sorry."

Ivan smiles but he doesn't see it.

Instead, inside his mind he was wondering how Gilbert would take it if he moves in with him in his apartment without warning. And it was all because of his pathetic crush.

He feels the arm moving away. Here it comes, he tells himself. The rejection, he means.

Oh, but he was wrong. Ivan moved so that he could touch his cheek.

"What are you so afraid of?"

Matthew took a peek and was puzzled with Ivan's smiling demeanour.

In an instant, the Canadian was trapped under Ivan with the sheets strewn on the floor. And with no warnings, cold lips were on his. He gasped in surprised and Ivan seized that moment to invade his mouth. Tongues danced to Ivan's rhythm and Matthew couldn't stop the hums of pleasure coming from his mouth which fuelled Ivan's desires greater. He had wrapped his arms around the Russians neck and was running hands through the male's hair.

Matthew had never kissed anyone prior to that drunken haze, if it could even be really considered one. But this… this one was sensational. It doesn't even matter anymore if it was some form of hallucination and surely it couldn't be, because he was feeling it and he was in his right mind and this is an amazing feat and he still hasn't woke. They were awake. This is real.

Ivan was kissing him.

Ivan was kissing Matthew Williams.

Ivan lowered his head more to deepen the kiss. He nibbled on the younger's lower lip before attacking Matthew's mouth. His tongue was running all over and the latter not going down without a fight and attempting to do the same.

In the course of the action, Ivan had cupped Matthew's cheeks and his thumb was gently caressing the blond's face.

Ivan wasn't new to this. He'd had his fair share of women and men alike. But this – this was so different, he'd never felt such a burning yen before, never for something, never for someone.

He ached for Matthew.

_I shouldn't be doing this._

Maybe he shouldn't, but he didn't care. That voice at the back of his mind would never go away, but he could ignore it for all he cares, because Matthew had said it. He likes him.

He likes him. And he's going to make Matthew fall in _love_ with him, because "like" will not satiate him.

He wasn't sure if it was only caused by the heated moment. Frankly, it didn't matter. For a long time, Ivan hadn't had such a thought: I want him. I want him. I _need_ him.

Maybe he wasn't thinking straight. Maybe they really weren't. Maybe what Gilbert had said got into him, or maybe he just really, really likes Matthew. But he refused to delve further. What was important right then was that Mathew was trapped under him, giving off such sweet reactions that _he_ caused. And by the time Matthew regains his logic, it wouldn't make such a difference because Ivan wouldn't let him go anymore – wouldn't give him up for anyone or anything. He'd be safe beside him. Ivan wouldn't let him let go of his hand.

It was the human need for oxygen that stopped them. They could have gone on if they could.

Ivan took this moment to assess Matthew's teary-eyes, flushed face before leaning closer to his ears and whispering:

"I like you too."

o0o0o

Somewhere not far, Dominique sat tensed under a tree, wearing a hearing device and in his hand was a rectangular phone like object. His eyes burned with fury.

Matthew was his, his, his, his…. How dare he? HOW DARE HE?!

Beside him, Toris was bound in multiple coils of thick wire, face and body beaten black and blue.

* * *

[1] Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: **Thank you for the reviews! The bad guy is an OC. I give you permission to hate me. I'm so sorry.  
EDIT: I feel stupid whenever I misuse _your_ and _you're_... that is just... ughk! =,= nvm.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own the characters

* * *

_"_**_I'm _**_not against you and Matthew being together. Well, I also couldn't say I encourage it. That is, of course, assuming you'll actually do something, Braginski. For one, Matthew's safety is more important now. This is a one way ticket. The minute you wanted in, there's no going out whether you like it or not. But I do believe you're man enough to face this.—" Ivan listens intently as the albino man talks, a few shots of vodka here and there, "–More importantly, you hurt him – even once- I'll personally cut your balls off. Understood? I don't even know what Francis or Alfred would do." Gilbert was dead serious. Apparently, Ivan wasn't as tough as he thought he was._

o0o0o

Eduard was typing away on his keyboard: partly processing the codes and partly thinking of where was his friend. He knew hacking into his housemates' phone was a good safety measure even if Raivis and Toris found it a bit unsettling.

"How's it going, Ed?"

Raivis came from Latvia and has been living with the two for about a year now. He was shorter than average guy with wheat-coloured hair and deep blue eyes. Out of the three, he was the youngest but also the one with the sharpest tongue.

"Still working on it. I just need to pinpoint his exact location."

On the other hand, Eduard was born in Estonia but his parents' works had them moving from country to country. With this, he had learned to occupy himself with computers to keep him busy because being the new kid at least twice a year wouldn't let you keep a lot of friends. (And he didn't want any to begin with anyway.)

"Do you think this has anything to do with Ivan and the man?" Both knew that Toris has been keeping an eye out for Braginski. A man has been prowling around his house roughly after a boy came to live with him. The typing sound came to a halt and Eduard faced his younger companion.  
"You and I both know the answer to that, Raivis."  
"I know."  
"This has got everything to do with Ivan and that kid, Matthew."

o0o0o

Ivan never thought he'd ever feel happy – _this_ happy, at least. This wasn't the first time, he thinks, that he's been happy. He didn't live such a depressing life not to feel happy before. He was happy when he got the house. When Toris and he became friends, he was happy. When he got promoted, that was a happy moment too. Winning over clients made him happy. But this time was different. Being happy had never felt so, so… overwhelming. It was like a stream of good things wanted to burst out from his chest.

It was so astounding that he now concludes that he's never really felt _happy _until Matthew.

The said blond was fitfully curled on his side. After the make-out session hours ago, it took every cell of him to gather up enough will to stop himself in spite of Matthew's flustered and needy face.

"Not now, we have time ahead of us," he said before pressing his lips on Matthew's forehead. He smiled and got off the bed. "I'll leave you to take care of that." He pointed to the growing bulge just below the boy's waist. Embarrassed, Matthew quickly turned away from him and covered his face. "Or would you rather that I help?" He teased.

Of course, what Matthew did was hurry to his shower before his companion could pester him further. By that time, Ivan had also decided to get back his own room to take care of his own _problems_.

"You also don't seem to notice the effect you have on me."

A familiar tune rang throughout the house. With a heavy heart, Ivan carefully removed himself beside Matthew to answer a call from Gilbert.

"Yo, the stuff is ready."

"When will I get them?"

"I'm walking to your door right now."

Ivan has the most extreme, absurd, and frantic ideas that Gilbert should be thankful he only spoke of the least unusual one: track Matthew down wherever he goes; hence, the tiny tracking device they were now in possession of.

Four men sat opposite from each other on the back porch, examining the miniscule material they had gotten hold of thanks to Gilbert's connections. Ivan had tried calling his Lithuanian friend but only got hold of the brunet's housemates through the home phone. Toris had told him stories of Eduard's exploits and though he had only made small talks with the man on a few occasions, he trusts the people skills he got from his line of job.

Ivan, Gilbert, Raivis, and Eduard did not have the luxury to fully get acquainted with each other when they discussed Matthew's situation. As much as Ivan and Gilberts wanted to involve no one further, there was no other choice. Since they were Toris's friends and Toris was deeply trusted by Ivan, it was the safest option. They wouldn't sell them out. After all, their friend is also involved in this.

"So, you're telling me that there has been a man snooping around this area for the past months and you… _YOU _didn't even tell me?!" Though a little uncomfortable, Ivan hid his reactions even after Gilbert brought down fists on the table, creating a loud thud. The other two remained silent.

"Did you know that your damned silence could have caused us Matthew?"

"But he's safe here, now, _da_?"

Gilbert did his best not to pull his hair out. "Don't you get it?! This isn't a game, Braginski. Matthew isn't just yours to protect. To hell with your feelings! Matthew's safety comes first and nothing else!" The albino's voice rose higher and louder. "His safety! Not your pride or ego or whatever. You cannot jeopardize us!"

For the first time in his whole life, Ivan Braginski felt ashamed and stupid at the same time.

Gilbert shut his eyes in an attempt to calm himself. "What were you thinking?" Ivan kept his mouth shut.

"Uh, I think that you should know," Raivis started to talk, "Toris… well…" he trailed a bit before Eduard decided it'd be best for him to finish the statement. "Our friend has been gone for a while. He was going out to regularly check on both of you yesterday, but he never came back home. We still don't know exactly where he is because his phone was destroyed even before I could completely track him down."  
"All of our phones have transmitters that Eduard modified himself." Raivis added.

"Have you contacted the police?" Gilbert asked alarmed.  
"No. We didn't think it was such a good idea." Eduard answered.

While the conversation between the two men continued, remorseful thoughts ran through Ivan's head. Toris was missing and though it's not yet confirmed, he has a gut feeling that _that_ man got him.

He never intended for this to happen – never wanted for his friend to be dragged in such a dangerous state. Toris was in trouble. His friend was out there somewhere because of him – because of his stupid decision.

But how was he supposed to know? Ivan Braginski, in all of his glory, was still just a man, after all.

"Well, I think I could pull a few people from the department to secretly scout the area for him. They wouldn't tell anyone else. I might loop in some men from our station. Francis said he'd come if 'twas really necessary. Right now, we should do what we can about Matthew's situation."

No one protested against Gilbert's resolution.

"You said we only have to find something to attach this too, right?" Gilbert was lazily inspecting the small device for the nth time.

"Yes, preferably nothing too eye-catching or something that Matthew already regularly wears." Raivis confirmed.

"Accessories like earrings, necklace, or rings would do." Eduard added.

"But Matthew doesn't usually wear those things." Gilbert said.

"Yes, in fact, the only thing he ever wears is his glasses and it isn't such a good option seeing they can easily be lost." Ivan thought long and hard before speaking. "But perhaps we could just ask him to wear a watch. Just a simple time piece is inconspicuous, don't you think?"

"I think it's a good idea." Gilbert affirmed.

Ivan remembers the unused watch in his dresser. His never seen Matthew with one so it was probably alright to assume he didn't have one. He briefly excused himself to retrieve the said watch.

What happened next caught them off guard.

Just as he was departing from his room, a loud crashing noise came from downstairs. Gilbert cursed loud enough to be heard by Ivan, disgruntled moans from Eduard and a Raivis. He clutched the silver in his hands and ran to where the boys were only to be met by smoke, most likely from a teargas.

"Gilbert!"

"Ivan! Get to Mattie!"

_Bang! Bang!_

The sound of bullets being fired was unpleasant. He could see nothing; only hear clattering and falling of various objects.

_Bang! Bang! Bang!_

"ARGHHH—"

It was the sound Gilbert falling.

Everything happened so fast. He had turned around to run upstairs despite wanting to help his comrades. Ivan knew he had to keep Matthew safe. He knew, but there was nothing he could have done as he felt a piercing pain on his left shoulder.

_Bang!_

And then another one not far from the first.

He slumped against the bottom of the stairs feeling the intense burning on his left shoulder. He felt the blood soak through the fabric of his clothes.

The faint sound of someone walking to him made him attempt to stand only to fail. Then, he was faced by a masked man pointing a loaded gun to his head. By this time, the blood loss was making him dizzy: double vision and little black spots appearing. And all he could think of was that everything was screwed up. They screwed up. And Matthew… oh dear God, help Matthew.

The click as the gun was prepared for firing wasn't new to him. And as much as he wanted to fight, he can't.

"STOP!"

o0o0o

Francis Bonnefoy stared at the broken piece of ware on the floor of his apartment. On a regular day, he would fuss over the spilt expensive wine, but at that moment there was a gut feeling telling him something was off.

Like his good friend, he tended not to ignore his instincts. After all, he too was a detective.

His flight was in twelve hours. He would have gone there sooner if he was allowed. And right now, he wished he had just threatened the living hell out of his boss to allow him his leave.

o0o0o

Toris Laurinaitis felt his consciousness slip in and out. The man left him half dead somewhere in the woods and Toris couldn't find it in himself the will to stay put.

"Ve~! Ve~! _Fratello_! _Fratello_! A man! Ve~!"

"What the hell are you screaming abo—holy fuck! ANTONIO!"

o0o0o

Matthew was shaking. A gun was pointed at Ivan who was already bleeding a lot.

"I'll do whatever you want, but please, leave them alone."

The masked man looks at him and outstretches his arms, beckoning Matthew to come. There was no way out. Matthew could either let them die and fight or help them by going with this man. Heaven knows he's too good to risk anyone.

He descends the stairs slowly, hand pressed against the wall so he wouldn't lose his footing. Hesitantly, he places a hand over the man's.

"_Matfey, nyet."_

Matthew's knees felt weak as he heard Ivan plead. But he didn't have time to look back as the masked man pulled him away.

Outside, a white van with tinted windows was waiting. Matthew was harshly shoved inside, but he didn't say anything. He heard the engine start and felt as the vehicle sped away… away from the house, away from Ivan and Gilbert, away from safety.


	9. Chapter 9

**(A/N: I believe I've given you permission to hate me. **I know the quality of the chapters are getting worse... damn... I'm sorry. I'll fix that once I finally finish _everything_ with this. I'll probably just upload a pdf file somewhere or something since I'm such a lazy ass (not really, but I'm becoming very busy~ uhhk) that I wouldn't even bother editing the chapters here. It frustrates me when I see my grammar errors thrown here and there.

Oh dear~ we're nearing the end.

**Thank you for the wonderful support you guys have shown even though I'm such a crappy person.**

I didn't really think people would "welcome" this kind of story.

Deepest gratitude to all the readers. You keep me from quitting writing. **)**

* * *

**Matthew** was conscious when the vehicle stopped moving for the first time. It was only hours since they drove away from Ivan's residence, but to him, it felt longer. There was nothing inside the vehicle – completely _nothing. _It was bare. The windows were sealed too. It wasn't just tinted windows. A normal tinted window would make it hard for outsiders to look inside, but in this one black paper covered the entire windows to keep the insider from seeing the outside.

He had his arms wrapped around his knees and his back, pressed on the side farthest from the front. He willed himself to think, to call for help, to just… just do something – anything! But all he could process was the fear that had simply numbed his senses. It was his form of acceptance. He had stopped questioning if it was really happening. He'd stopped because no matter how hard he tried he couldn't wake up to find all of these a dream.

A moment later, the van stopped. Matthew willed his breathing to be even. He didn't want to be afraid in front of his captor, didn't want to give the man the satisfaction of _owning_ him. When the door was opened, he was met with the face of the man who took him.

Green eyes and honey-coloured hair seemed familiar.

_"This world needs more people like you. You are so, so precious…" The man was starting to scare him, but maybe it was because he's in distraught. His girlfriend cheated on him with his boss. He found out on their three year anniversary. Of course, it hurt._

_But still, the young boy noted the crazy look in the man's eyes._

_Matthew tried to convince himself that everything was fine. He really did, even when those smile started to mean something more, even when fingers traced lightly on his face._

_"I've got to go, Mister. My mom might wonder where I am." Lie. "I hope everything gets better for you." Matthew smiles and stands up. Faintly, before he got too far, he heard the man say,_

_"Precious things should be protected. Such pure soul…"_

o0o0o

Francis Bonnefoy kept a calm façade as he read through the e-mail his co-worker sent. The said person was a little odd not just because of his thick eyebrows that were the butt of most jokes around their department, but also because of his insistence of possessing _special _abilities. If Arthur Kirkland had been an ordinary employee, he would have been kicked out a long time ago. But Francis himself knew that that Brit was good with what he's doing, with or without his "friends."

_Bonnefoy,_

_I know you had always doubted me and frankly, I don't give a damn. But I know this Matthew kid is important to you and to that pompous albino too. Whatever I had put in here must be related to the kid in a way or another. I've found out that he used to live where my most recent assignment is. And believe it or not, my _visions_ just gave me the heads up._

_I sound crazy. It's up to you whether you believe me or not. I've done my part. _

_Last Tuesday, we've finally dug up the remains of Jack Lancaster three miles from his home in an abandoned public property. The man has been missing for at least six years. The people in the neighbourhood had assumed that he had just moved away without a word since he generally kept to himself though he was kind and occasionally hung out with them. It wasn't until a group of kids found a beat-up cabin in the woods located behind Lancaster's house did they notify the authority. _

A picture of the beat-up cabin and Lancaster's corpse was attached. As Francis scrolled through, he was shaken to find what littered in the cabin's insides.

There was only a bed and sink in the cabin. The walls were covered with a young girl's pictures - candid shots from school and family gatherings. She looked younger and happier in those. But as she grew older, the smiles started to look fake and bothered.

Ropes and chains were scattered on the floor. There was a separate picture of a rusty knife in the lone bed. What bothered Francis more was the amount of blood stain in what should have been a white sheet.

_Kaelin Maynard has been missing from her home since she was nineteen. But two people from a nearby store had sworn that a twenty one year old Kaelin had regularly bought groceries from them._

_After tracing down Kaelin's family and close friends, we had also discovered that prior to her disappearance; odd notes and letters had been consistently sent to her. It was a terrible mistake, her brother told me, to let it slide as a prank even after seeing its detrimental effects on Kaelin. _

_Unfortunately, the blood staining the bed did belong to the girl. Judging from the amount, it would only be by miracle that she lives through that. _

_We have yet to find her body. _

_From the outside, these two cases would seem unrelated, but an old employee of Lancaster brought it to a new light. Apparently, Kaelin had stayed with the man for a while before both disappeared. And before Lancaster, he was supposedly help captive by a man named Dominique Wright._

Francis's brows furrowed in anticipation. He's starting to slightly have an idea where this was going and how it was related to Matthew.

Another picture of a man was included in the document.

He continued to read the message but as he went further and further into the story, the words started to become a jumbled mess inside his head. He comprehended yet all the same became more confused

o0o0o

"Damn it!"

"Gilbert, calm down!" His brother said with as much stern as he could.

"Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!" Gilbert punched the nearest tree with his good left hand. His right arm was in a sling. "That fucker! We'll fucking get him! Damn it!" His outburst was not left unnoticed by the police force surveying the area.

With no warnings, Ludwig grabbed him by the collar and struck him. The act was nothing new between the brothers. Ludwig didn't possess the same grasp of spoken words as well as Gilbert. It just became a regular thing to have him knock senses into his brother physically.

They remain frozen for a couple minutes before the older silently walked away to talk to the other officers.

Twelve hours after the initial incident, they found the van parked miles away from the city. According to the records they were able to gather, it was bought three weeks ago by a guy under the name Jack Lancaster.

o0o0o

Ivan was aware of the steady beeping of the monitor. He can recall hearing snippets of conversations around him, but still, his consciousness continues to waver. For a few times, he could feel the pain in his shoulder and chest. He was thankful that they treated before it became unbearable, yet at the same time irked that it's making him droopy.

He recalls what Matthew had done and it sends painful waves of frustration in his gut.

Those clear eyes as he made compromise with the transgressor… it burned through Ivan's mind.

Time was abstract in his current state. Several times he managed to open his eyes for a second before giving in to the medication. It was night the first time he opened them and night again when he came to the next time. A few times he recalls the warmth of the sun briefly before once again letting the dark consume him.

All the while, the image of Matthew as he turned his back on him bore a hole in his heart.

* * *

_R&R_


End file.
